NAOMI
Ididn't celebrate my birthday anymore. Not since my mother died when I was eight years old, leaving me with nothing but a cramped apartment in Brooklyn, a savings account I'd been squirreling away since I was sixteen, and the bone-deep certainty that I would never end up like her.
Weak. Dependent. Owned.
February fourteenth. Valentine's Day. The day I turned thirty.
While the rest of the city exchanged roses and chocolate with overpriced declarations of love, I was sitting in a contractor's office in Queens, negotiating prices for renovating the building I'd just leased for my learning center.
"These numbers are too high," I said, sliding the estimate back across the desk. "I can get cork flooring for half this price at wholesale."
Danny, a fiftyish Beta male, raised an eyebrow. "You want me to use wholesale materials?"
"I want you to be reasonable. This is a nonprofit. Every dollar you overcharge is a dollar that doesn't go to helping kids."
He studied me for a long moment, then picked up his pen and started crossing out numbers. "Fine. But I'm not cutting corners on safety. The electrical work stays at this price."
"Deal."
We spent another hour hammering out the details. Timeline, permits, inspections. By the time I left, I had a signed contract and a headache that threatened to split my skull.
My phone’s text tone rang as I stepped onto the sidewalk.
Kira, my favorite Beta
Happy birthday, bitch. You better not be working.
Just finished with Danny. Got him down 15%.
Of course you did. Now get your ass home. We're going out.
I'm tired.
I don't care. You're not spending your birthday alone. Be home by 6 or I'm dragging you out in your pajamas.
I knew better than to argue. When Kira decided something, she was immovable. It was one of the things I loved about her, even when it was deeply inconvenient.
I made it home by 5:30.
Our apartment was small. Two bedrooms, one bathroom, a kitchen that barely fit two people. But it was ours. Kira had been living with me for three years now, ever since the night I'd foundher in an alley with a split lip and a black eye, courtesy of an ex-boyfriend who'd thought "Beta" meant "punching bag." She'd moved in that same night. Never left.
Now she was standing in the kitchen wearing a short black dress and heels, her dark hair curled, makeup perfect. Beautiful as ever and thriving in the right state of mind she was in now. Self esteem had never been higher within her.
"Jesus," I said. "Where are we going? The Met Gala?"
"Better." She grinned. "Club Obsidian."
I froze. "No."
"Yes."
"Kira, that's a?—"
"A BDSM club, I know. A non-human BDSM club specifically. And it'samazing." She grabbed my shoulders. "Look, I know you have issues with Alphas. I get it. But this isn't about Alphas. This is about you taking your power back. It'syour birthday. You deserve one night where you feel good. Where you feelpowerful."
"I feel powerful every day?—"
"Bullshit. You feel incontrolevery day. You control your schedule, your money, your future, because you're terrified of anyone else controlling you." Her expression softened. "I'm not saying you need an Alpha. I'm saying you need to remember what it feels like to choose pleasure for yourself. On your terms."
